


Take You Higher

by AppleJackDaniels



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Romance, post pan's curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleJackDaniels/pseuds/AppleJackDaniels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the thousand ways this day could have panned out, being locked up in this strange penitentiary at the hands of his lovely Swan hadn't even crossed his mind. All he could do was wait – wait and hope that she would believe him, that she'd drink from the vial and restore her memory. Killian was nothing if not a patient man. *inspired by a tumblr prompt. set post Pan's curse*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on tumblr requested that I write a fic set post 'winter finale' curse to tide them over during the hiatus. I was going to make it a quick one-shot, but the prompt ran away from me and became something a bit more involved and in-depth. I imagine it'll be about 3 chapters long and I'll post the chapters in the next few days. They're almost completed, but I have a few tweaks and revisions I want to make first.
> 
> I'm still working on Every Monday Night, so fear not! When someone asked for this, the plot bug planted itself in my mind and I couldn't get rid of it; all I could do was write it out. This was the result.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> And, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated. I live for them.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own OUaT or its characters. ABC owns all. I just play in their sandbox.

  
Title of this fic is taken from the song  _Take You Higher_ by Goodwill & Hook N Sling

_She said "Hello, Mister_   
_Pleased to meet you"_   
_I wanna hold her_   
_I wanna kiss her_

_She smells of daisy_   
_She smells of daisy_   
_She drive me crazy_   
_She drive me crazy_

_Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane_   
_Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane_   
_Hey, Hey_

_Can I take you, take you higher? (hey, hey - hey, hey)_

_I wanna hold her_   
_I wanna kiss her_

* * *

Killian laughed bitterly to himself as the short, rotund policeman ushered him through the station, pulling roughly on his arm as he dragged him down the hall.

Oh, how he owed a certain  _charming_ fellow a swift boot to the ass when he returned to the Enchanted Forest.

_"You have to find her, Hook. Make her remember and bring her home to us."_

_"Well, when you put it that way, it all sounds so very easy. It's a wonder I hadn't come to that conclusion myself," Killian replied in a sardonic drawl, taking another swig from his tumbler._

_David frowned, lightly smacking the pirate's shoulder. "Stop being a wiseass. I may have a plan." His tone abruptly changed, suddenly serious and urgent, "Do you love her?"_

_Killian scoffed, peering at the man through the corner of his eye, mouth tugging into a vicious grin. "Considering you're her overprotective father, I'm not so sure it'd be wise of me to answer that question, mate."_

_"I'm being serious, Hook."_

_The pirate ran his tongue along his teeth, staring listlessly at the bar as he swirled his glass, the amber liquid sloshing at the movement. His voice was quiet and hushed, "You know that I do."_

_"Would you consider it True Love?" Killian snapped his head to look at his companion, startled by the question, and for a moment, he thought the man was mocking him, ridiculing his feelings._

_"It'd be rather presumptuous of me to assume the Lady Swan feels as I do, wouldn't you say?"_

_David leveled him with a stern gaze, shifting irritably in his seat. "Just answer the question."_

_The pirate nodded solemnly. "Aye, I believe that it is. Now is there a point to all this, or do you mean to simply torture me with the reminder that she's lost to me?"_

_"True Love's kiss can break any curse. If it_ is _True Love, then all you have to do is kiss Emma and the curse will be broken and she'll remember. Remember you, remember me and Snow, remember the Enchanted Forest – she'll remember_ everything."

Oh, he was a sneaky bugger, that Prince Charming. That wicked, evil, depraved man. Planting a seed of hope in the pirate's mind, leading him to believe that he was Emma's  _True_   _Love_ , that all he had to do was kiss the woman to clear her mind of the fog and erase the haze of false memories that littered her brain.

When he'd kissed her, there was a moment, the briefest of instances, where he'd thought it'd worked, that the spell had been broken. He could have sworn that for a fraction of a second, Emma had leaned into his touch, returning the fervor that he'd poured into the kiss, all the desperate passion he'd felt during her absence.

There weren't words that could adequately express the utter  _agony_ he'd felt when the kiss failed, when she pushed him off and kneed him in the groin as she cast him out of her apartment. It was a cruel twist of fate, salt in a festering wound, the turn of a blade embedded in flesh, when it was fully realized to him that his love was unrequited.

True Love's kiss would have broken the curse, and it was now painfully obvious to the pirate that that wasn't him, wasn't ever him, wouldn't  _ever_  be him. Despite the harsh realization, he couldn't find it in himself to regret kissing her, relishing the dreadfully short moment when he finally felt her lips against his. His dreams of her didn't hold a candle to the fire of actually  _seeing_ and  _feeling_ her again.

It'd been worth it, everything he'd done to get here. He'd cut off his own shadow, the excruciating pain tearing a cry from his throat as he peeled the shadow free from unyielding skin, and entrapped it on the sail of the  _Jolly Roger –_ a final, desperate act of a desperate man. All the pain, all the struggle, all the torment was worth it, simply because he'd been granted the blessed opportunity to see her again.

_Damn that Charming._

Killian should have known the dastardly prince was setting him up, and he'd foolishly fallen for the ruse, all too eager to believe that he was Emma's True Love, that their kiss  _meant_  something, that she felt for him as he did for her. David was likely having himself a jolly good laugh at the pirate's misfortune, chuckling with demented self-satisfaction at Killian's pain and disappointment, utterly and disgustingly  _pleased_  with himself.

The bloody wanker; he was going to pay for his treachery, and he would pay  _dearly._

The police officer harshly yanked on Killian's handcuffs, the sharp metal digging into his skin as he was steered towards on open cell.

" _Ooooh_ , it makes me all tingly when you get rough," Killian leered at the balding man, brow arching suggestively.

"Shut the fuck up and get in the fucking cell, pretty boy," the man responded gruffly as he pushed the pirate into the barred room. He walked up behind him, fiddling with the key as he unlocked the cuffs.

Killian grinned impishly as he taunted the man, "I love it when you talk dirty."

He felt a hand smack the back of his head, crudely pushing him forward as the man detached the shackles and left the cell. Grumbling an irritated response, the officer locked the door and skulked down the hall, the soft echo of his footfalls falling silent as he exited. The pirate observed his meager accommodations with disinterest as he rubbed his hand on his left forearm, massaging the slight burn of pain.

He didn't like this land – all the pretense and chaos of everyday life. It was nothing like the other realms he'd visited; the people here were callous and cruel, stubborn and selfish, caring little for the world outside of theirs. It was a land without magic, a land without  _hope_ , and he hated it.

His cheeks puffed out as he expelled his breath, musing over the events of the day, feeling an ache in his chest at Emma's response to him, his gut twisting into painful knots. He hadn't been able to break through to her, hadn't cleared the fog from her memory – the kiss failed and he was nothing more than a mere stranger to her.

Of all the thousand ways this day could have panned out, being locked up in this strange penitentiary at the hands of his lovely Swan hadn't even crossed his mind.

 

* * *

_"Who the fuck are you and why do you keep following me? You have exactly two minutes to explain yourself before I call the cops," Emma rounded on him as he trailed her in the park, a wild, dangerous gleam to her eye._

" _My name is Killian Jones. We used to be… acquainted, but you've been cursed and lost your memory," he looked at her imploringly, his devastatingly intense gaze searching hers for any intimation that she_ remembered _him, vaguely, somewhere hidden deeply in the recess of her mind. All he was greeted with was a frustrated look of muddied confusion._

" _What're you talking about? Look, I don't know who you think I am, but you've got the wrong girl, all right? So just go fuck off and leave me and my son_ alone. _" Her tone was terse and clipped, a hint of fear nipping at the heels of her words. She clutched her coat tighter around her, as if it would protect her from the lingering sense of danger, and Killian knew she thought something was amiss, knew that she was placing more weight to his words than she was letting on._

" _But I do know who you are!" he beseeched her, reaching out with his hand before she abruptly shirked from his touch as if he would transmit some horrible, communicable disease to her. His lips turned down, frowning at the cold, empty distance between them. "Likely better than anyone else. Your name is Emma Swan. You had your son in jail when you were 18 years old. Your birthday is October 22nd. You were orphaned when you were a babe and it's led you to become a very closed off, untrusting person."_

_She looked at him skeptically, brow rising high on her forehead, and Killian panicked when he saw that small trace of her elusive recollection dissipate, her walls rebuilding, firmly cutting him out – his frantic attempt at reasoning with her, to make her_ believe.  _He was losing her –_ again _– and all hope he'd had of making her remember him was quickly dwindling._

" _Any creep with access to the internet could've figured that one out. Your two minutes are up – I'm calling the cops." She pulled a small object from her pocket, fingers working on the small screen before she brought it to her ear, speaking in a hushed, scared whisper into the contraption._

" _You like your hot cocoa with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. You prefer storms to sunshine because the sound of the falling rain calms you and gives you serenity. You chose your surname after your first foster family because they were the only ones who made you feel you had a home, had a family, until they had a child of their own. You're bossy and petulant and insufferable; you're strong and determined and passionate. You're scared to love because everyone you've ever loved has abandoned you. I know you, Emma Swan, and you know me. You simply can't remember." His words were frenzied as they flew out of his mouth, and he had to summon every ounce of willpower to keep his tone steady, to prevent it from trembling with unspoken emotion as the woman he loved blocked him out, cast him to the side, refused to listen to that haltingly quiet voice in her head that was whispering the truth to her – that Killian was familiar, that what he was saying was_ true.

_He settled her with a dizzyingly intense gaze, wordlessly conveying all the tumultuous emotion that she stirred within him._ He had to get her to remember.  _But she was hopelessly stubborn, snubbing the vestige of doubt that had briefly sputtered in her mind, now replaced with trepidation and terror. Emma gawked at him, mouth hanging loosely open as she registered his words. He watched as she fought off a shiver, suddenly nervous and terrified. He was losing her, and painfully fast._

" _Seriously, who the fuck are you? How do you know all that? How long have you been stalking me?" she demanded of him, voice rising with her agitation as she shoved the small device back in her pocket._

_Killian cautiously grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face him as he brazenly invaded her personal space. He was a man driven mad with determination, willing to go to any lengths to get her to listen to him, and he would stop at nothing until she remembered._

" _You told me once that you have a gift. Use your talent – look me in the eye and you'll see that I am not lying to you."_

_And bless the gods, she_ did.  _Skepticism plainly washed over her face as she met his passionate gaze, her eyes searching and doubtful. He saw something flash behind her eyes then, a hint of confusion marring her features as she seemed to dimly recall something vaguely familiar, and for en ephemeral moment, Killian could swear that recognition flickered on her face before she chased it away with incredulity._

" _You're insane." She wretched herself free from his grasp and took a few cautious steps away from him._

" _Only for you, love," he smiled darkly as he reached into his coat and procured a smile vial. He closed the gap between them and grabbed her hand, delicately placing the potion in her palm, closing his fingers around hers as he forced her to hold it. "Please, just… just take this. Drink it. Drink it and it'll restore your memory and you'll realize that everything I've told you is true. You_ know  _me, Emma. You feel it, don't you? There's something off about your life, something that just doesn't feel quite right, something_ missing."

" _I… I can't," her voice was soft and uncertain as she stared at their joined hands, the act somehow distantly familiar and comforting to her. She pulled away from him, fingers tightly wrapped around the small vial, clutching it so fiercely he feared it would shatter, and with it, destroy his last hope at bringing her back to him. "This is crazy –_ you're  _crazy. The cops'll be here any minute."_

" _You have to trust me, Emma. Please, I beg of you, if there's any small part of you that believes what I'm telling you, drink this and you'll remember. Remember everything. Remember_ me.  _You know me, and I can prove it to you._ "

_She narrowed his eyes at him. "How?"_

" _The boy's father – Neal – he used to live here, in an apartment not too far from yours. It's where I've been staying while I've searched for you."_

" _N-Neal?_ Neal?!"  _she almost shrieked his name._  " _Is this some sort of twisted fucking joke? It's not funny."_

_"I would not deceive you, Emma. Here, I have his address. Go there. Go to his place and you'll find the answers you seek. Drink the potion and see the truth. You have to believe me, love, you have to come back to me." And damn it all, his voice finally faltered, breaking as he stumbled over those last few words, wavering with turbulent, desperate emotion._

_Her eyes moved to stare behind him, relief flooding her face, and he felt his heart drop as the sound of heavy footfalls resonating behind him._

_He failed._

_He couldn't get her to remember, couldn't bring her to realize the truth in his words. All he could hope for was that the seed of doubt had been planted, sowing itself in her mind until her curiosity got the better of her, leading her to drink the potion._

_A gruff voice sounded from behind him as he felt a strong pair of hands roughly grasp his arms, yanking them back as the man tore him away from her, from his Swan, from the woman who meant_ everything  _to him. He wanted to scream and fight and weep because she_ couldn't remember him.

_"Emma, please, I've never asked anything of you, never expected anything of you – just this once, I beg you to do as I ask. You have to believe._ You know me.  _You just can't remember," his voice was defeated and exhausted, trembling as he felt cool metal slice into his skin as something wrapped around his wrists with a solid 'click'._

_The man behind Killian spoke, his words foggy and disoriented in the pirate's ears, and he focused all his attention on the intolerably obstinate woman in front of him. She nodded her head lightly, and he could only pray that it was meant for him._

 

* * *

Well that certainly hadn't gone as expected. Though, truthfully, Killian wasn't exactly sure  _what_ he'd been expecting. That True Love's kiss would magically break her free from the curse's hold? That she would reciprocate the kiss and leap into his arms, begging for him to whisk her away and take her back to the Enchanted Forest?

Nothing in his life had ever been easy, and this certainly was no exception.

Sighing heavily with the admission of defeat, his shoulders slumped with fatigue as he collapsed on the bed, head pounding painfully, buzzing with frustration, mocking him with his failure.

All he could do was wait – wait and hope that his Swan would believe, that she would  _trust_ him, and drink from the vial. Just wait... wait here in this jail cell, in quiet contemplation.

Killian was nothing if not a patient man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I love you all! Thank you so much for all the support! The CS fandom is definitely my favorite. You're all lovely and wonderful and you have no idea how much I appreciate your support and kind words. I think that's half the reason why this quick little blurb is turning out to be its own full-blown fic.
> 
> I really shouldn't be working on two COMPLETELY didn't fics simultaneously. I'm a horrible multi-tasker when it comes to writing, but ah, c'est la vie.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the next installment!

 

"Looks like today's your lucky day. The woman dropped the charges – you're free to go," the policeman's voice woke Killian from his fretful sleep, the cell's keys clanging in the lock, ringing loudly in the pirate's sensitive ears.

Killian gave him a confounding look as he fought against the haze of sleep, brain still slow and sluggish. Upon his prolonged silence, the officer lazily shrugged a shoulder, a condescending grin marring his features. "What, you find yourself a boyfriend in here already and don't wanna leave him?"

The pirate leapt from the bed and stalked towards the open door, leaning into the man as he passed him, speaking in a low, husky voice. "You know that you're the only man for me. I'll miss what we shared, mate." Killian gave him a lascivious wink, a sultry quirk of his lips, and the short, round guard grunted a sound of irritation as he pushed the pirate out of his personal space, immediately uncomfortable by the advance.

"Get the fuck outta here, pervert," he shoved Killian with irritation, guiding him towards the lobby, and the pirate smiled wickedly at the man.

Chuckling darkly to himself, pleased that he had effectively riled up the policeman and made him squeamish, Killian sauntered down the hall, chest puffed out, head held high, a sashay to his hips, lewdly taunting the man. "I won't forget you, darling!"

He ignored the officer's scathing retort as he trekked through the station, and his heart began pounding erratically, nerves dancing with anticipation, thoughts racing and confused. She'd let him off the hook (Killian laughed internally at his pun) and dropped the charges, which meant one of two things: either she drank from the elixir to regain her memories, or she took a leap of faith and decided to place her trust in the strange man that randomly barged into her life, intuitively sensing his peculiar familiarity.

He would happily settle for either, both possibilities boding well for the pirate, because they meant that she'd  _trusted_ him, and that knowledge filled him with a renewed sense of self-satisfaction, restoring his waning confidence at his ability to break through to her, to relate with her on that deep, emotional level, to make her  _believe_. Despite her infuriatingly stubborn nature, she'd heeded his words and was willing to listen to what he had to say, and that in itself was enough for Killian.

Footsteps falling heavily on the floor, boots scuffing the shiny, linoleum surface, he nearly ran towards the exit, pushing the door open with an unnecessary strength, and he was greeted with a gust of the chilly autumn air. His eyes scanned the busied sidewalk, searching the sea of blurred faces for that familiar blonde hair, the flash of red from her coat – something,  _anything_ , that would indicate she waited for him. Everything was a massive, monochromatic blob, a throng of moving bodies and ducked heads. It all blended together, coalescing into a thick veil of dark coats and hazy silhouettes, making it nigh impossible to distinguish one particular person in the crowd.

_Why were there so many damn bloody people in this damn bloody city?_

Hurried people bustled past him, knocking into him with their shoulders, muttering incoherent curses at his obstruction of their paths, and  _really_ who did these people think they  _were?_ They lacked the genial manners of a gentleman, their destinations and self-importance far too significant to inconvenience themselves with common courtesy. It was terribly bad form.

Killian loathed this realm and he'd die a happy man if he never saw it again.

Just when he was about to lose hope, almost believing that she wasn't waiting for him, that she was lost in the ocean of faces, he saw her – her hands firmly clutched the vial to her chest, her eyes bright and shining with an indiscernible emotion as she stared at the ground, oblivious to the leather-clad man.

He couldn't help the smile that broke on his face at seeing her, the beacon of light in his darkened life, the one person he cherished above all else. His feet moved of their own volition as he ambled down the steps, intense gaze boring into her, his skin prickling with anxiety, fingers itching to touch her, arms aching to hold her.

She looked up suddenly and met his gaze, head slightly tilted as she squinted her eyes, viewing him with trepidation, her jaw clenching as she forcibly swallowed. He tore through the crowd, pushing against strangers with twice the fervor before they easily parted to accommodate him, his strange attire and dark demeanor garnering more than a few wary glances as people dodged out of his path. Before he could think better of it, he drew her into his arms, hugging her close as he cradled his hand on the back of her head, reveling in the feel of her, the smell of her hair. And  _gods_ did it make his chest ache with a bittersweet happiness, filling a void that had ravaged his heart during her absence.

Moving stiffly in his arms, she shifted uncomfortably as he gripped her tightly, face burrowed in her hair, and he refused to let go, not yet, not when he'd waited an entire  _year_ to feel her in his arms again. Finally, she relented, her arms slowly draping across his waist as she leaned into him, her posture relaxing, and his heart skipped a beat.

_She remembered._

She must've drank from the vial, her memories restored, and finally,  _finally -_

Emma suddenly realized what she was doing, and her body went rigid as she tensed against him.

"Uhh… sorry. I don't know what came over me; I shouldn't have done that…" she said sheepishly as she disentangled herself from his embrace, guarded smile firmly in place. She stepped away from him while clearing her throat, a sudden flush painting her cheeks at her inexplicable propensity for him.

Gaze flitting to the vial, he lamented to see that it was still full, cap snugly fastened to the top, seal unbroken. The pirate's stomach dropped and his brow knit together with pain, a brief flicker of his inner turmoil momentarily exposing itself before he swallowed it down, quickly adopting a stoicism that he didn't feel.

She didn't remember; she hadn't drunk from the small, glass container. Of  _course_ she hadn't – he was but a stranger to her, thrusting an obscenely brightly colored liquid into her hands, imploring her to drink its contents. Honestly, he'd almost be worried if she  _had_ drank it, because really, who freely accepted an odd drink from a strange man? It could've been bloody poison!

Forcing a smile, he looked at her tenderly, searching her eyes for that ambiguous recollection and finding none. "It's all right, lass, nothing to apologize for."

"Killian, right?" His heart stuttered when he heard her utter his name, for the first time  _Killian_ and not  _Hook._

He gave her a terse nod, "Aye."

Emma opened her mouth as if to speak before snapping it closed, dubiety staying her tongue, and she gave him a contemplative look, appearing apprehensive and uncertain. As she fiddled with the vial in her hand, Killian watched her with an observant eye while she warred with herself, dozens of conflicting emotions flashing on her face.

Finally seeming to find her voice, she spoke, "So let's pretend for a moment that I don't think you're absolutely fucking insane. Say that in some other life, we did know each other. You told me you know where Neal's apartment is – show me."

"Did you lose the address I gave you? Or did you prefer to have the devilishly handsome stranger escort you?" Killian gave her a wolfish grin.

"Please – don't flatter yourself. I'm not into the whole," she motioned loosely at him as she searched for the right words, "grunge, tortured musician look."

"No? Hmmm… it never seemed to deter you before," he quipped with a cock of his brow, a wicked grin on his lips. He was all charm and charisma, smarmy and sultry, enjoying the opportunity to once again win her favor – a fresh start, a new beginning, the chance to weasel his way back into her good graces as she fell for him all over again. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but it's what Killian considered to be 'making the best of a bad situation'.

She arched an eyebrow at him, assessing his words. "Just how well did we know each other?"

"Not half as well as I would have liked," he admitted darkly, his demeanor suddenly solemn and serious.

She hummed a response, nodding wordlessly as she stared indolently behind him. Shaking herself free from her musings, she turned her back to him, walking down the sidewalk towards the street, and it was all Killian could do to stare, brazenly admiring her form as she moved, an uncharacteristic skip to her step that he hadn't seen on her since she walked away from him after their first kiss.

When he didn't immediately move to follow her, she tossed her head over her shoulder, casting him a wayward smile, a small dimple forming on her cheek. "Well? You coming or not?"

Killian nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed after her, gently pushing past the scurrying crowd as he chased her to her vehicle, tethered to her by an invisible leash, refusing to let her out of his sight now that he'd found her again, like he'd  _always_  find her.

"Of course. You can't rid yourself of me that easily."

She gave him a peculiar smile, the motion tugging at her lips, hinting at something deeper and more meaningful, and her eyes gleamed with something vaguely familiar.

"Good."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this was only going to be a three parter. Well that was a blatant lie. (sorry not sorry)
> 
> This chapter is shorter and I toyed with the idea of coupling it with the next part, but decided against it in favor of giving you an update sooner, so I apologize in advance if it's a little lackluster. Most of this fic is inspired by the short little teaser we have of the next episode, so I've taken the scraps they've given us and put my own little twist on them.
> 
> Hope I don't disappoint.
> 
> As always, reviews and/or constructive criticism are always welcomed!

 

When Killian brought Emma back to Neal's apartment, things went  _very_ wrong, very fast. Her harsh retaliation against the things he was showing her hit him like a punch in the gut, winding him as his lungs struggled to breathe, and his brain labored to keep up with her frantic and hysterical protests.

He was still recovering from her almost violent outburst; he wasn't even sure how it happened.

As she drove them to the apartment, they quickly fell back into their old routine of jocular banter and wistful glances, conversation easily flowing between them, their chemistry and compatibility undeniable. Killian was feeling rather optimistic about the whole scenario and was convinced that once they'd arrived at the apartment, she'd finally heed his words and quit looking at him like he was a raving lunatic, hoping that she'd agree to drink the elixir and rediscover her lost life, reviving dormant memories.

Oh, how  _badly_  he had mistakenly predicted the turn of events that would unfold, his excitement at seeing her clouding his better judgment, preventing him from seeing the fallibility of his foolish plan before he'd set it into motion.

He'd shown her around the apartment, explaining to her exactly  _who_ Neal was – who  _she_ was and what her destiny as the savior had been – hoping that something here would spark her memory, that something would be  _familiar_. She'd scoffed at him, brow furrowing with skepticism as she thumbed through the various objects that littered the room, learning more about the father of her son vicariously through his possessions. Killian saw the distant trace of pain and sorrow that were etched on her face, fear playing on her features as she observed Neal's room, lost in harrowing memories.

Killian had been speaking to her – telling her of her parents, the Enchanted Forest, Storybrooke and the curse that plagued its inhabitants – when he heard her sharp inhale, the small trip of her steps as she stumbled. Voice falling silent, he turned to look at her, curious at what had attracted her attention.

And  _really_ , he should have known that bringing her here was an imprudent decision, should have known from the moment he heard her frightened gasp that something was amiss, something wasn't right, that he was moments away from scaring her off. He never should have brought her to Neal's – stupid, stupid thing to do, he berated himself.

The color drained had from her horrified face, looking as if she'd just seen a ghost, frozen to her spot, paralyzed with fear. Calling her name in question, he'd watched her warily as her trembling fingers reached for a dream catcher that hung in the window, the beads dangling from the feathers sparkling as they reflected the sunshine. When she finally touched the talisman, a thousand different emotions flashed rapidly through her face in quick succession, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she ground her teeth, her eyes shining brilliantly with unshed tears.

"I have to go," she'd whispered, tearing her hand away from the suddenly offensive object, and she pulled the lapels of her coat snugly against her as she ran for the door, ducking her head to avoid his questioning stare.

"Emma, wait!" Killian had called after her, reaching to grab her arm before she could run away from him _._

_"Don't fucking touch me,"_ she'd hissed at him through clenched teeth, eyes glinting dangerously. He flinched at the abruptness of her powerful, angry tone and snapped his hand away from her, holding both arms up in submission as she leveled him with her gaze, all dripping venom and volatile emotion.

And before he could offer any more protest, she'd hurried out of the apartment, slamming the door forcefully shut behind her, hurried footsteps resonating in the hall. He was seeded to his spot in the apartment for several long moments, still absorbing what had just happened, confusion and curiosity slowing his train of thought, still reeling from her vicious attitude. Turning his expectant gaze to the door, he'd waited for her to turn on her heel and come back to him, muttering half-hearted excuses and apologies.

Only, she never came back.

And now, here he stood, alone in Bae's bloody apartment, long abandoned and forgotten, just like he was, and it was suiting that he should be here in a tragically poetic sense.

Legs finally remembering how to move, Killian walked to the dream catcher, running his fingers against the grain of the feathers, ruffling and displacing the fine, downy hairs as he contemplated the ornament, brow creased in deep thought.

Funny how so small a thing could provoke such a strong reaction.

Tilting his head slightly, he scratched at his jaw, the stubble catching on his blunt fingernails, and his eyes were drawn by a movement outside of the window, a flash of red as Emma jogged to her car. Humming to himself, he watched as she shot a quick glance up to the window, staring directly at him for a fraction of a second, their eyes meeting in a tense stare, fear and resistance reflecting in her irises, before she stepped into her car and stole her way down the road.

A sad smile tugged at his lips and he gnawed at the inside of his cheek, blue eyes following her vehicle as it disappeared around a corner, hidden by large buildings and crowded streets. Though she'd left, rather angrily, he mused, Killian knew that the first hint of doubt brewed in her mind, corrupting her thoughts, making her second-guess the life she lived, the reality she thought she always knew. He'd cracked through her tough exterior, a hairline fracture spindling in her impenetrable walls, weakening its foundation.

He'd waited a year to see Emma again – crossed through an impossible rift, swam across the divide that separated their worlds, achieved the impossible so that he could find her. His Swan would return to him, Killian consoled himself, because deep in the core of his heart, of his  _soul,_  he still believed that this was  _it_ – it was True Love. He desperately clung onto the hope, refusing to admit defeat, adamant that he'd come through to her, that what they had shared  _meant_ something. She'd remember when she was ready, when the time was right, when she decided to quit being so bloody  _stubborn_ and allow herself to accept the truth.

It would only be a matter of time, and he would wait for her, as he'd always wait for her, until he drew his last breath.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! 'Tis the season and time slipped away from me. I based this chapter off of the few seconds we saw of Emma and Killian sitting in something that looked like a restaurant as he (I'm assuming) tried to convince her to believe him. There's just one more chapter after this, and then this little fic will be finished!
> 
> Enjoy :)

Emma sat alone at the table in the dimly lit restaurant, face buried in a book, utterly enraptured by her reading material as she mindlessly swirled her straw in her drink. Killian slid into the booth across from her, the unusual fabric of the jeans he'd 'borrowed' from Neal's apartment catching on the seat, stuttering his suave movement.

Tearing her eyes away from the book, she gave the pirate a startled look, surprised and confused by his sudden presence. As recognition flickered on her face, she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily when Killian shot her a coy grin, ever-arching brow perched high on his forehead.  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he crowded her space, a breath away from being invasive. 

“I see that you still haven’t drunk from the vial I’ve given you,” he motioned towards the purplish container that peaked out from her purse.  “Although, you _are_ carrying it on your person, so some small, devious part of you must be considering what I’ve told you.  I’m beginning to like my chances.”

"Seriously? We're back to this now? You're just going to stalk me and follow me everywhere I go?" she spoke with exasperation as she laid her book down on the table, turning the corner of a page to save her spot and rubbing tiredly at her temple. 

"You could always call the cops. The stout little man and I bonded during my arrest. It was quite touching, really.”

“What do you want, Killian?” she harshly spat out, tone clipped and terse.

“I think you know the answer to that, sweetheart,” he drawled with a squint of his eye, exuding cool self-assurance as he furthered leaned into her personal bubble.

Her features were schooled into an expression of boredom and apathy, but he saw something playing at the peripheries of her eyes, an indiscernible emotion that fought for dominance, wanting to reveal itself to the darkly dangerous and captivating man.  It gave him a sick sense of self-satisfaction as he watched her squirm under the scrutiny of his intensely burning, vivid gaze, his eyes ever-searching, too knowing and understanding, peering into the window of her soul as he stripped down her barriers, laying bare all the vulnerable emotion he stirred in her.

Dropping his suddenly too penetrating stare, losing the unspoken challenge, Emma’s eyes shifted to the waitress as she quickly refilled her nearly empty mug, the steam rising from the hot liquid in hazy puffs.  As she shot the server a small smile of gratitude, she wrapped the fingers of both hands around the cup, absorbing the heat the coffee offered. 

Turning to leave, the waitress caught sight of Killian out of the corner of her eye, and her movements halted as her demeanor abruptly changed.  Sultry smile toying at her lips, hand idly coming up to twirl an errant strand of hair that fell free from her loose bun, the young woman appraised him with an approving look.

“Is there something I can get you?  Cup of coffee, water, anything like that?”

Killian graced her with an absolutely predatory grin as he inclined his head to the server, appraising her with a humorous gleam in his eye.  “Do you have anything stronger,” his blue gaze flitted down to her nametag, crookedly hanging on the strap of her apron, “Mandy?”

A slight blush ascended her cheeks at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue, and she softly shook her head, a small frown marring her features.  “We’re just a daytime café; we don’t have any liquor.  I’m sorry.”

“Ah, that’s quite all right, love,” his hand disappeared inside his jacket before producing his token flask, deftly twisting off the cap with a practiced motion.  With a quick wink and a lopsided smile, he toasted the air near Mandy, “I should have enough to last me another hour or two.”

Tossing his head back and taking a generous swig of rum, Mandy stifled a giggle, a dimple forming in her cheek.  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Jesus _Christ,”_ Emma muttered under her breath with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.  “Look – he’s fine.  In fact, we were just getting ready to leave.”

Suddenly remembering the other woman’s presence, Mandy appeared startled for a moment, rouge muddying her cheeks as she realized her faux pas and subtlety cleared her throat. “Um, yeah, I’ll be right back with your check.” 

She hurried away bashfully, and Emma shot Killian an irritated look.  A smirk pulling at his mouth as his glance darted down to her lips, set in consternation, and he reveled in the moment as something akin to jealousy flashed on her features.

“Don’t let the young girl threaten you, darling, it was just a mild flirtation.”

“Why would I feel threatened?” Emma snapped with indignation, folding her arms across her chest, jaw set in defiance.

“You tell me,” he shot back with a wicked grin. 

Scoffing at him, Emma shook her head, blonde tresses of hair falling front of her face, and he fought against the compulsion to leave forward and brush the stray strand behind her ear.  His fingers twitched with self-restraint, and he felt an abrupt wave of anxiety settle over him as the urge to touch her washed over him.  Shifting uncomfortably in the strange attire, Killian sat back as he fiddled with the sleeve of his new jacket, the soft material unfamiliar and slightly scratchy, and he busied his fingers with the tedium of the task, distracting him from his longing to _feel_ her.

It was then that Emma noticed his change of appearance, the new attire he wore, and she gave him a lingering, appraising look as her eyes swept up and down his body, eyes darting to soak in his pale button up shirt, his greyish brown vest, his long, black overcoat with the collar popped – _always_ with collar popped – and her throat flexed as she swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure if it was purely wishful thinking, but he would've sworn that he saw her eyes darken with desire, cheeks turning red for the briefest of moments. 

“Enjoying the view, darling?” he leered at her with a quirk of his lips, and her eyes were drawn to the movement, gaze flitting down to stare at his mouth before moving just as quickly back to his face.

“Where’s the leather?”

“You told me that you didn’t appreciate the – oh, what was it you so eloquently called it? – ‘grunge, tortured musician’ look?  I thought it wise to wear something more… appropriate.  Did I get it wrong?” his voice was slightly sheepish and he squirmed as he readjusted his collar, trifling with the strange line of fabric hanging loosely around his neck, uncharacteristically self-conscious in the unfamiliar clothing.

“Nah, you’re fine; it looks good on you,” she said with a slim smile before nodding to his crooked tie, “You got the tie wrong, though.”

“You try tying the bloody thing with one hand,” he grumbled at her defensively with a fierce glare, tone more scathing than he’d meant for it to be.

And damn that woman, she was _laughing at him._ Killian wanted to hate her in that moment, to wipe that smug smirk off of her face, but he couldn’t deny the flutter in his chest when he’d heard that sound escape her lips - it was a beautiful, honest sound, bereft of her previous scorn and contempt.  It’d been far too long since he last heard that lilting laugh and he wanted to drown in the melody.

Face bright with amusement, her tone wavered as she fought off another compulsion to chuckle. “Here – let me help,” she rose from her seat and walked around the table, easing into the booth beside him.  His heart skipped a beat before it pounded erratically at their close proximity, and he could practically _feel_ the heat radiating from her, warming his tired and cold body. “They’re trickier than they look.  I’m honestly surprised you even got this far.”

Grabbing the end of his tie, she pulled him towards her, closer than was strictly necessary, Killian mused, as she intuitively leaned into him.  Her slender fingers worked at the knot, pulling the fabric free from its loose, messy loop.

As he drifted impossibly closer to her, flagrantly disregarding any notion of personal space, he whispered in a gravelly tone, “You’d be surprised at the things I can do with one hand, love.”

Looking at him through thick lashes, she met his challenging gaze, mouth teasing with the hint of a smile, a flash of white teeth peeking out behind her lips. “Apparently fixing a proper tie isn’t one of them.”

Attention drawn back to the task at hand, she measured the tie against his chest and her fingertips lingered on his vest for a fraction of a second, lightly tickling his skin with the sensation, the air suddenly thick with sexual tension. 

“If you doubt my talents, I’d be more than willing to provide a demonstration,” he retorted with a quick wink, and the crooked grin he gave her was downright predatory with its voraciousness.

She huffed out a humorless chuckle, corner of her mouth tugging into a skeptical smirk. “Please don’t tell me this little act of yours actually _works_ at getting you laid.”

“I usually just dazzle women with my striking good looks and they fall in my bed.”

“Jesus, you’re really in love with yourself, aren’t you?” she teased, eyes flashing to meet his gaze.

“Only with my reflection, sweetheart,” he answered darkly, bitterness tightening his features.

Upon hearing his words, she stopped her ministrations as she leveled him with a curious look, head tilting to the side, eyes squinting as they swept across his face, trying to find the humor hidden in his mien and finding none.  Her jaw set as she weighed his words, turning them over in her mind, and he lamented seeing the flare of pity that flashed in her gaze.

“You don’t like yourself?” she questioned, undercurrents of sympathy threading into her words.

“So what was it about the relic you saw dangling in the window that frightened you?” He evaded her question, uncaring that the abrupt change of topic would leave him suspect. 

Her tongue darted out nervously as she wet her lips.  Fingers wrapping in the material of the tie, she tugged it firmly, tightening the knot as she raised it to its proper position, and she gently patted his chest while admiring her handiwork.  “There - all done.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“You avoided mine,” she shot back with a squint of her eye, leaning back against the seat as she distanced herself from him.

He smiled down at her. “Touché, darling. Well, it appears we’ve come to an impasse.”  Tonguing his cheek, he was quiet for a moment, boring her with his always intense gaze, eyes searing with curiosity and slight trepidation.  “Let’s compromise, shall we?  I’ll answer your query if you answer mine.”

She gave him a considering look as she toyed with idea, brow knit with hesitation, and he felt a flare of anxiety course through him, fearful she was an ill-said word away from running, darting out of the café as his questions became too personal, too invasive.  That was his Swan – his infuriatingly obstinate, closed-off Swan – always running from her feelings, refusing to let her walls down to accommodate anyone other than Henry, anticipating hurt and abandonment if she simply allowed herself to be _loved._

“Do we have an accord?” he questioned, brow reflexively arching.     

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded her head with reluctant agreement. “All right, deal.”

“Ladies first.”  He gave a small, flourished bow, leaning down as he motioned for her to speak.

Huffing out a humorless laugh, Emma vehemently shook her head. “Oh no, no, no, no.  I asked _you_ first – you start.”

“If the lady insists,” he gave a sardonic smile, irritated by the rationale she’d used against him.

Resting his elbow on the table, he ran his hand over his mouth, fingers following the curve of his lips as he contemplated his words, agonizing over what he was about to say, eyes following the lazy patterns drawn on the table’s surface. 

“I’ve lived a very…long life.  And in my many years, I’ve done regrettable things and became something of an infamous villain.  My life was driven by my desire for revenge, and for a long time, it was the only thing that mattered.  I was utterly obsessed with it and I hadn’t a care for those I hurt to satisfy my vengeance,” he paused then, for once, unable to meet her gaze, terrified of the compassion and concern and _pity_ swimming in the depths of her eyes.  “It wasn’t until a year ago that I met someone who showed me the error of my old ways, showed me that vengeance is an end – not a beginning.  I’ve been trying to atone for my sins and redeem myself so that I may prove my worth to her,” his tone suddenly changed, haunted by distant memories, and he gave her a sad smile as he met her stare, burning with a wistful sadness. “But thus far, my efforts have proven vain.”

She steadied him with a harsh glower, eyebrows clenching together with rage. “No.”

He gave her a bewildered look, startled by her nonsensical response, the biting edge to her bluntly stated word.  “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know what the hell kind of game you’re playing at, but it’s not funny.  I’m _done_ ,” her tone was saturated with venom, all malice and spite.

“I’m not sure I follow your meaning, love,” he admitted cautiously, subconsciously backing away from her, the angry heat rolling off her body in waves.

“Seriously, _Killian,_ who the fuck _are_ you?”  She shouted with loathing, and Killian’s eyes flashed to their unintended audience, casting curious stares at their raised voices.  “I’ve just met you a couple of days ago, so why have I been dreaming of you for the past year?” she seemed to be speaking to herself, her tone flustered and exhausted.

Reeling at her drastic change in demeanor, Killian stared at her with wide eyes, scarcely believing what he’d just heard.  He tried to wrap his head around it, struggling to piece together the missing pieces of the puzzle at her admission – she’d dreamt of him. 

_She remembered._

Brow perched high on his forehead, a slight squint to his eye, he recalled her harsh reaction to the dream catcher.  “You’ve dreamt of me?  Is that why the dream catcher frightened you – it made you remember your dreams of me?”

Suddenly realizing what she’d said, Emma furiously shook her head, brow creasing as she waved her hands, dispelling the notion. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Tell me, love, were they saucy dreams?” he ravished her with a lurid stare, wolfish grin parting his lips as he leaned forward.

Nose scrunching with disgust, she scoffed. “N-no, they-there was a forest of some kind and… and a _boat?_ ” Her stare grew distant as she searched for the memory, the vague recollection that had blossomed in her mind.  Frustration chased away her confusion, her muddied train of thought, and her tone turned bitter and sour.  “I don’t freaking know; that’s not the point.”

Curiosity piqued at her description, Killian rested his weight on his forearms, shifting in his seat as he spoke. “Neverland?  What do you remember of this forest?”

“Did you just say _Neverland?_ As in from Peter _freaking_ Pan?” Dawning realization settled on her features, her eyes growing wide with disbelief, mouth hanging open as she processed his words.  “Oh my god… your missing hand, all that leather and guyliner.  Don’t tell me you’re supposed to be Captain Hook.”

He held his hands out to his sides with a slight bow to his head, smarmy grin teasing at his lips. “In the flesh.”

“Oh my god… you really are insane.”  Emma worried her hand through her hair, fingers combing through the long tresses as she sighed with exasperation, cheeks puffing out as she expelled her breath.

“Says the woman who’s been dreaming of the dashing, roguish pirate she’s only ‘just met’,” he taunted her irreverently, mocking her with her own admission. 

“Killian, those are _fairy tales._ They’re not _real._  You’re not Captain Hook and I’m not your Wendy.”

“Don’t be absurd, darling!” He sat back in his seat, waving a hand through the air as he brushed off her errant remark, skepticism etched plainly on his mien.  “Wendy is but a child.”

“You’re _sick_ and you need _help.”_ Bringing her purse to her lap, body shaking uncontrollably with denial and fear and rage, Emma fumbled until she found her wallet, withdrawing several wrinkly bills before throwing them on the table, shooting Killian a repugnant look as she stood.

“Emma, love, just wait,” he moved to stand, but she leveled him with a lethal gaze, a wild, untamed, dangerous gleam sparking in her bright eyes, rooting him to his seat.  “Please, you have to listen to me, your parents are in danger and we need your help.”

“I’m an orphan, Killian, I don’t _have_ any parents.”

“But you do!  And they love you.  You simply can’t remember them.”

“And why should I believe anything you say?  Give me one good reason.”

Killian scrambled to find the right words, to calm her down and appease the mounting wrath that built dangerously in her.  A bitter, dark smile tugged at his lips, remembering what he’d told her all those months ago atop the beanstalk, during their quest to find the compass. “You should try something new, darling – it’s called trust.”

There was a flash of recognition in her eyes as he spoke the words, a spark of a memory flickering in her mind, a faint flame that spurred to life before she quickly snubbed out the fire, smoke rising from the smoldering ashes as she refused to let it sway her.

“Stay the _fuck_ away from me and my son.  Because next time, I won’t bail you out of jail,” she seethed in a tone that brooked no room for argument.  Turning angrily on her heel, she stalked through the restaurant, nearly knocking over their waitress as she bustled past her, pushing the door open almost violently to escape in the crowd of the streets.

Sighing heavily with the admission of defeat, Killian slumped back against his seat, hand dragging down his face, stubble lightly scraping against his palm, and he bemoaned her stubbornness, resisting the memories that desperately wanted to break through the thick fog, reveal themselves to the light and bring her back to him.

Mandy slowly walked back to his table, delicately placing the bill on the surface, her brow knit with confusion.  “Everything okay?”

Giving her a crooked grin, threads of sadness tightening the movement, Killian brought his flask to his mouth, hesitating briefly as the cool metal brushed against his lips.  Moving it away from his face, he stared longingly at the container with a contemplative look in his eye, before replacing the cap and stowing it back into its home.

“It will be, sweetheart.  I’m nothing if not a persistent man.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter alone is bumping the fic rating up to explicit. Take that as you will.
> 
> Anyway, for those of you reading, thanks for sticking along for the ride! I hope you've enjoyed it and that this has met your expectations. Look at me, finishing a multi-chapter fic. This is defining moment for me as a fanfic author. Let's take a second to revel in this achievement.
> 
> I appreciate all of your kind words, reviews, kudos, and bookmarks. They mean more to me than you know. I write for myself, I write for you guys, and the feedback has been incredibly inspiring for me. Thank you.
> 
> So, without further ado, I present to you the final installment of Take You Higher!
> 
> Hope I haven't disappointed :)

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets._

The mantra echoed in Killian's mind, doing little to offer comfort to the pirate as he exited the bathroom, body wet from his shower. Scratching at his jaw, he smiled bitterly to himself, his own words mocking and ridiculing him. If it's a fight it would take, then fight like hell he would, but he'd never expected her to be this resistant, this stubborn – so infuriatingly obstinate that she refused to listen to reason, to that little voice that sounded in the recesses of her mind, whispering small assurances that Killian was familiar, the he could be trusted.

But then again, she wouldn't be his beloved Swan if she weren't so bloody bullheaded, ever the untrusting, closed off, self-preserving mother.

Killian grumbled to himself as he thumbed through the last few remaining articles of clean clothing in Neal's apartment. Hair dripping with residual dampness, he ran a hand through the saturated strands, rubbing quickly back and forth as small droplets of water flew through the air before shaking his hand out to his side to dry it off, and he eyed a pair of dark sweatpants that lay in a heap in the drawer. As he hastily threw them on, forgoing the decidedly disgusting idea of borrowing a pair of Neal's undergarments, there was a frantic, frenzied pounding on his door, and Killian startled at the sound, neck flexing as he jumped.

Sweats haphazardly hanging from body, loosely hugging his hips like a lover, he sauntered to the door, a swagger to his step as he tried to adopt a stoic expression, scared to let himself hope that it was  _she_ who waited impatiently at his door.

Opening the door hesitantly, the light illuminated her face, slowly revealing her to him like a beautiful sunrise peeking out through a canopy of leaves. A lazy smile spreading across his lips, he regarded her with a quirk of his brow, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

"You do realize that demanding I stay away from you and then showing up at my doorstep is counterproductive, don't you, darling?"

He leered at her, humor dancing in his eyes as they swept down her form, and it was then that he noticed the tension addling her body, the slight tremble to her hands as they fiddled with the small thing she held. Brow knitting together with concern, the pirate straightened his posture and dropped his hands, for a moment almost reaching out to touch her. "Emma? Are you all right?"

"You came back for me," her wavering voice was barely above a hushed whisper, so quiet that Killian wasn't certain he hadn't imagined it. "You… you never gave up. You came  _back_ for me."

Gaze flicking down to the distracted movement of her hands, he realized she held the vial in her delicate clutch, turning over the empty container with worried fingers.

Jaw snapping shut with an audible clang of his teeth, his mind labored to process what he'd just seen.

The vial was  _empty._ She drank the potion.

_She remembered._

Drawing his stare back to hers, wide with panic and something akin to terror, his eyes burned with the intensity of an emotion he couldn't describe, one that caused a peculiar stirring in his chest and stole his breath away, his lungs seizing as they forgot how to breath, heart aching as it forgot how to beat.

"Does that surprise you?" he asked softly, face downturned with a crooked grin, scarcely believing that she was actually  _here,_ that she  _remembered._

Unable to speak, jaw quivering as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, she wordlessly shook her head, eyes brimming with unshed tears, and she pushed her way through his door with a new determination, running into him and falling into his embrace. Butterflies fluttered almost violently in his gut as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, hugging him tightly, and his head buzzed when she rested her head on his shoulder.

He couldn't move for a moment, couldn't breathe, couldn't  _think_ ; he washopelessly paralyzed as she desperately clung onto him, her fingers digging into the exposed skin of his back, her hot breath tickling his neck as she pressed herself so closely against him that he could feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest.

This couldn't be real, this couldn't be happening. He was sleeping, Killian  _knew_ he  _had_ to be sleeping, all of this simply an elaborate fabrication of his mind, a devastating dream tormenting him with his heart's greatest wish, cruelly dangling it in front of him and quickly yanking the moment away when he lunged for it, desperate fingers grabbing at the cold, empty air. Any second now, he would wake from his disturbed sleep, sheets drenched in his cold sweat, eyes burning with sadness and grief and  _misery_ that it'd all been nothing more than a _dream._

It was a nightmare that tormented him every time he closed his eyes, one he couldn't wake from, a delusion he knew all too well.

"You found me; you're here; you  _came back_ ," she chanted over and over in disbelief, lips moving against his skin in a delicious whisper.

Finally, something in him clicked, the last piece of the puzzle sliding into its home. Regaining control over his body, wildly humming with something he could only describe as elation, he burrowed his face in her hair, gently cradling her head. He inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes, her aroma making him dizzy as he got drunk off of her essence; he was finally  _holding_ her again. The pirate held her with a delicate tenderness, scared that if he embraced her too tightly, she'd shatter and crack, the mirage melting, leaving his arms cold and empty.

This couldn't be real.

After a  _year_ of tirelessly looking for her, of almost losing hope, of driving himself mad with the obsession to be reunited with her, to make her remember,  _she was finally here._ Killian lost himself in the moment as she pressed herself to his chest, squeezing him tightly, her hair tickling his nose.

"Of course I did, love," he murmured into her hair, lips peppering her with small kisses, scared to believe that this was actually  _happening_.

For once, there was no playful edge to his tone, no witty quip perched at the tip of his tongue. There was simply this moment, this perfect moment where there was only Emma and only Killian as he finally held her in his arms. After days, weeks, months, a  _year,_ of berating himself for not hugging her when they said their goodbyes, for not swallowing his pride and stealing a kiss from her lips, for not telling her  _exactly_ what she meant to him, she finally came back to him. A heat flooded his body, a soothing warmth filling him with happiness and _relief_ that she'd returned, that she  _remembered._ His heart smiled, beating so powerfully he was sure it'd break free from his chest.

Emma pulled away from him all too soon, moving her hands to his chest as she ran her fingers through the dusting of coarse hair, her eyes drawn to the movement, unable to meet his gaze. "You looked for me the whole year?"

"There's not a day that passed where I didn't search for a way back to your land."

"I… I'm so sorry I didn't believe you. I had no idea, I couldn't remember, I couldn't-" she began, choking on the words as they tumbled out of her mouth, trying to put voice to all the muddled, confounding thoughts and emotions stirring in her.

Killian softly hushed her, placing his finger against her lips to quiet her words. "It doesn't matter, love. What matters is that you trusted me, you  _believed."_

She stared at him curiously with a squint to her eye, brow crinkling with her confusion. "You fought for me. No one's ever done anything like that for me before. Why? Why would you do that?"

He brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face before resting his finger under her chin, thumb sweeping along the curve of her lip. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, darling."

Emma looked at him then, truly looked at him, her blue green eyes swimming with an overwhelming emotion before she suddenly threaded her hands in his raven hair, fingernails dragging against his scalp as she tugged his face lower, crushing her lips against his. Killian sighed happily in her mouth, hand moving around her neck as he held her head, pulling her more firmly to him, his left arm gently pressing against her lower back, desperate to close every inch of distance separating their bodies.

"You  _fought_  for me. You came back," she breathed into their kiss, fingers tickling his cheeks as she reverently touched his face, looking at him as if it were the first time she'd seen him. "You didn't leave me."

"You know that I never would, love." He ran his nose along hers as he wavered on unsteady feet, the passion of the kiss leaving him disoriented and lightheaded. He'd dreamt of this moment – the warm feel of her pressed against him, the lilting melody of her voice, the dizzying touch of her hands –  _every_   _single_   _night_ , but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of feeling her again, the tempestuous emotion that coursed through his body at her touch.

"Killian," she whispered his name like a prayer, tasting the word in her mouth. "Take me."

He groaned when she uttered his name, loving the sound of it leaving her lips, and he slanted his mouth to hers, tongue swiping across her nether lip before lightly biting down. Hooking his arm below her rear, he picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, never once breaking the kiss as their tongues danced to a dueling tempo. He stumbled to the bed, hand knotted in her hair as he held her against him before gently lowering her on the mattress.

He leaned over her, left arm propped to the side of her head, his right hand cupping her cheek, thumb tracing the swell of her lips, and his panting breath blanketed her face as he looked at her, hesitation tightening his eyes. "Are you sure about this, Emma?"

Without missing a beat, she nodded her head determinedly, delicately placing her hand over his, entwining their fingers by her cheek. "Yes. I want this; I'm not scared anymore."

Killian gave her a lop-sided grin, trying revel in the moment before she pounced on him, all clawing hands and bruising lips, attempting to shrug out of her clothes as the desperation to feel the heat of his skin consumed her, her frenetic movements stuttering with her own excitement and nervousness.

Chuckling darkly, he smiled against her lips, the sound rumbling through his chest, and brought his hand to her jacket, gently knocking hers out of the way while his fingers pulled down the zipper, eyes filling with heat as her body was slowly revealed to him. He leaned over her, lips teasing her neck with feather light kisses as she wriggled out of her coat. Pinning her down with his hips, his growing arousal brushed against her, and she moaned lightly, a delicious sound tearing from her throat, and Killian wanted,  _needed_ , to hear that beautiful melody again – once, twice, a thousand times, and still, it wouldn't ever be enough.

Sitting up to kneel between her legs, Killian ran his hand over the swell of her breast, tracing the contours of her body before he wrapped her shirt around his fingers, slowly lifting it up and over her head. Frantic hands playing at the clasp of her bra, Emma disentangled herself from her lingerie, carelessly tossing it to the side as her pupils dilated, blue-green irises growing black with her arousal. Muttering a harsh curse, Killian bit back a groan as her naked breasts were revealed to him, his eyes roaming over her exposed body, committing the sight to memory.

"Killian," she pleaded, and he couldn't help himself, couldn't deny her anything, and he pressed himself against her, nipping lightly at her collarbone, brushing his nose delicately against the column of her throat.

Hand dragging down her side, fingers dancing as they skipped against her skin, he mouthed his way to her neck, biting the skin punishingly before apologetically laving the wound with a hot, wide sweep of his tongue. Moaning with frustration, her trembling fingers slid down his abdomen, teasing with the waist of his sweats as they tried to dip inside, to firmly grasp him in her palm, aching to feel his need for her. He caught her wrist with his hand, halting her movements as he slowly pulled her away.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided, lips searing a burning path of light kisses and devilish licks as they moved to her ear, nibbling at her lobe. "Ladies first."

He kissed her with all the pent up passion he'd been harboring for the year, pouring all the love and frustration and loneliness he'd felt into the kiss, tongue delving into her mouth as he sought out the cure for his despair, one that she alone could provide. He pressed his thumb into the dip of her hip, bruising grip lifting her from the bed as he ground himself against her, breathing a strangled groan into her mouth at the friction.

"Emma," he breathed her name, nose running along her cheek as he moved to bury his face by her neck, resting his forehead on her shoulder, reveling in the smell, the feel, the taste of her, suddenly overcome with a whirlwind of emotion. "I almost thought I'd lost you," and he hated the slight tremble to his voice, tone tripping over the despairing truth of his words.

"I'm sorry." Hands wrapping around him, she embraced her pirate, holding him tightly, their breathing becoming one. Raising his head, Killian leveled her with an intense gaze, eyes glowing a brilliant shade of blue as they burned with brimming emotion.

"Don't be, love, you've nothing to apologize for," his tone was serious, jaw clenching as he swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, choking on this moment, this wonderful moment where she opened her heart to him, finally accepting and embracing his love. "It was I who failed  _you._ "

Shaking her head, mouth quivering as she chewed at her bottom lip, Emma moved her hands to his face. "You didn't fail me, Killian. You came back for me; you didn't give up.  _Fuck,_ I had you  _arrested_  and you still came through. You gave  _everything_ for me. I've never had anything like that before. I just… thank you."

"Anything I have to give is yours for the taking."

Hand fleeing from his face, disappearing between their bodies, she smiled slightly at him. "Right now, all I want from you is this." Cupping him through his pants, she palmed at his growing length, and Killian tightly closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering sigh as she lazily stroked him.

Desire pooled low in his belly, awakening his carnal need to have her, to watch her come undone beneath him, have her fall apart in his arms. Eyes darkening with lust, a coy grin teased at his lips as he brushed his mouth against hers, whispering the words directly into her. "Your wish is my command."

Ducking his head, he pressed open mouthed kisses to her neck, trailing a line down to her breast, tongue darting out to lick at her nipple. She gasped at the wet heat as he closed his lips around her peak, languidly flicking his tongue around her pert nipple, pebbling at the circles he drew around it. His hand working at the fastening of her jeans, Emma raised her hips, helping him lower her pants, finally rid of the last offending article of clothing that barred her from his touch.

"You're breathtaking," he murmured, lips teasing against her skin.

His fingers played at the downy hair of her sex, moving at an agonizingly slow pace as they ventured to the apex between her thighs, teasing her with barely-there touches and soft caresses. He moved to give the same careful attention to her neglected breast, nibbling at the flesh around her peak, leaving bruising kisses as his lips skipped across her skin with hot, moist breath, and he dipped his middle finger between her folds, exploring her sex.

The shattered moan that tore from her throat was nearly his undoing, testing his resolve as she shivered beneath him, bucking her hips to meet his touch. Quickly pushing his finger into her center, he wet the digit, dragging it slowly back to her nub before drawing slow circles around it, applying just the barest amount of pressure that wasn't nearly enough. Fingers carding in his hair, she pulled his face to hers, crushing their lips in a desperate kiss, filling his mouth with her small pants and heavy breaths.

Shifting his weight, his own need becoming nearly uncomfortable in its stiffness, he pushed his palm down, grinding against her core as his finger slipped inside of her, curling slightly to find her sweet spot, pumping into her at a leisurely pace. Her breathing hitched as he added a second finger, and she thrust herself on his hand when he brought his thumb to play at her bud. Kissing at her neck, Killian smiled with self-satisfaction at the feel of her frenzied pulse beating against his lips, her heartbeat quickening as she chased after her pleasure, seeking out her release.

"Let yourself go, love," he moved to look at Emma, her eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head at the way his fingers skillfully worked at her, pushing into her with a sweet agony as he brushed against her most sensitive of places. "Emma, look at me. I want to watch as you come undone for me."

Opening her eyes, a wild, crazed look flashing in their depths, she met his gaze. With a heady press of his thumb, a slight angle to his fingers, he thrust into her, grinding himself into the mattress, aching and dripping for friction, for her touch. But not yet, not until he had the divine satisfaction of watching her come apart in his touch, her throat going raw as she screamed and moaned his name. Back arching off the bed, Emma fought to maintain the eye contact, teetering dangerously close on the edge of her release, hands clawing at his shoulders, fingernails biting into his skin.

As she neared her orgasm, mouth hanging open in a silent cry, he abruptly withdrew his hand, his head suddenly disappearing before it quickly replaced his fingers, pressing his tongue flat against her bud, licking a long, slow line. His eyes flashed up to look at her, her head thrown back against the pillow, hands fisting in the sheets, and he hummed appreciatively at the sight of her wanton pleasure, the sound rumbling deep in the back of his throat, sending slight vibrations to her nearly oversensitive core. Closing his lips around her clit, he delicately grazed his teeth over her, tonguing at her lightly, his finger drawing lazy circles around her opening, teasing her and denying her the satisfaction of fullness.

Emma unraveled in his touch when he finally pushed his fingers into her, watching her hungrily as she reached the eclipse, eyes forcing shut as her back bowed, and her hand fisted in his hair, pushing him closer to her sex, thighs squeezing around him as her orgasm ravaged her body.

Before she'd had time to come down from her high, Killian crawled up her body and lined himself with her core, thrusting slowly into her, and he forgot how to breathe as her warm tightness enveloped him, walls fluttering around him as she screamed his name. Forehead falling to her shoulder, he pumped into her at a tortuously relaxed tempo as he rode out the waves of her pleasure, warring with himself as his own release threatened to spill over him.

It'd been so long since he'd been intimate with a woman, longer still since he'd shared a bed with a woman he  _cared_ for, and he'd almost forgotten the overwhelming pleasure and exhilaration that came with making  _love_  – the ache in his chest, the swarm of nerves and butterflies fluttering in his belly, the feeling of finally being  _sated_ , filling the void in his heart.

"Killian… oh  _fuck,_ Killian," his name spilled from her lips, a breathless litany as she met his thrusts, desperate for him to go quicker, to go deeper, to feel him in every empty space that ached for him.

He moaned against her skin, snapping his hips at the sound of his name tumbling from her trembling lips, and he didn't want it to end, didn't want to find his release so soon, not after waiting so long to see her again – a whole bloody  _year –_ and he never once imagined that their reunion would culminate to  _this_ , the personification of their unspoken feelings of love and affection, both of their hearts too guarded to put voice to the emotions that stirred in their chests.

Pressing her down into the mattress, he quickened his pace, his thrusts finding the perfect rhythm as he cradled her face in his hand, kissing her passionately, greedily swallowing her moans as she quickly neared another orgasm.

His rhythm faltered, his hips stuttering as he began to lose the last semblance of self-control, and he wrapped an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer, slightly changing the angle as he drove into her, again and again, pace frantic and frenzy, plunging even deeper as she canted her hips, legs falling to the side.

"Emma…" he breathed her name, the sweet taste of it rolling off his tongue as he ran his nose along hers, unable to meet her gaze, simultaneously excited and terrified to see the reciprocated emotion reflecting in her irises, exposing the truth of her feelings to him, their moment of intimacy stripping her bare of all her defenses as she opened herself to him,  _gave herself_  to him. Finally meeting her eyes, burning with the intensity of their wordlessly shared love, shining with a sheen of unshed tears, an overwhelming outpouring of passion and devotion, it suddenly became too much, too intense, and Killian ground himself into her, seeking out his completion.

A strangled moan tore from his throat, a sound he almost didn't recognize, and his movements stalled as he seated himself in her, paralyzed with the blinding white of dizzying pleasure, eyes screwed tightly shut as sparks obscured his vision, head buzzing with the force of his orgasm, pulsing inside of her as her walls squeezed around his length, her broken, wrecked cry breaking through the veil of his muted hearing as she reached her climax.

Slumping against her, chest falling heavily against hers as beads of sweat trickled down his face, their hearts beat in sync, their breathing shallow and panting, and for a moment, there wasn't anything else in the world but the swan and her pirate, lost in the feel of each other, coming down from their highs, a peak neither thought capable of reaching.

"That… that was," Emma started, her voice falling silent as she struggled for the right words.

"If you say 'a one-time thing', gods help me, I'm going to throw a bloody tantrum," he teased as he raised his head, slowly withdrawing his softening member and rolling to the side.

Emma lightly shoved him, hand pushing against his shoulder as she steadied him with a mildly irritated look, annoyed humor crinkling her eyes. "Shut up. That's not what I was going to say."

"Aye, I know. And, if it's any consolation, I agree."

She smiled at him, appreciative that he understood without forcing her to complete her thought, the realization that what had just taken place was an act of making  _love_ and not just another mindless fuck, a quick release, a means to an end. It was a deep emotion they both felt, the intensity of it shaking their foundations, but neither could put word to it just yet, not in the infancy of their new relationship, a blossoming romance, the start of something Killian knew would be beautiful.

Gracing her with a heart-melting smile, a lopsided grin that lit up his face, the weary pirate wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his chest, and she nestled her head on his shoulder, fingers idly toying with the hair on his chest.

Sleep beckoned Killian, coaxing him into its sweet embrace, before Emma's voice sounded out, breaking him free from the spell of its allure.

"Killian?" her voice was hesitant, slight trepidation nipping at the heel of her tone.

"Yes, love?"

"I'm happy you're here. Even if I couldn't remember, I… I missed you."

"And I you, Emma. There's no place that I'd rather be."

Pressing a kiss to her hair, he hugged her tightly for a moment before sleep washed over him, falling into a deep slumber, and for the first time in his long memory, it wasn't plagued with nightmares and darkness, tormenting him with past loves and old vendettas, fraught with regret and yearning.

For the first time in over 300 years, Killian felt at peace, finding a place he could comfortably call home, the last vestige of darkness and hatred melting from his cold heart, warmed with the contentment and happiness of finding love _– True_  Love.

Maybe that bloody Charming was right after all.


End file.
